Page 199 of Primal Bonds

“No!” Panicked, he grabbed her legs. “Don’t leave.”

“Just for a minute. You have a fever—you need water.”

“No.” He tightened his grip on her, not giving a fuck that he was being unreasonable. Marjani was the solid boulder around which the rest of the world swirled. If she left him, he’d be engulfed by the maze again.

“Okay.” Cool fingers stroked his hair back from his face. “Calm down.”

“Thank you,” he rasped and dozed off. When she lifted his head off her lap and set it on something soft, he was too weak to protest. Then he passed out. This time, his sleep was dreamless.

When he next opened his eyes, his head ached and he was hot as Hades, his mouth so dry he could barely swallow. He peered blearily around for Marjani, but she was nowhere to be seen.

His heart slapped wildly against his rib cage.

Had she left him? Or worse, been seized by the goblins?

She murmured something against his shoulder and his heart resumed its normal tempo. She was spooned up against his back, her arm around his waist, her breathing the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

Relieved, he let out a jagged exhale and then stilled, afraid to wake her in case she left for real. But she had the senses of a cat.

She sat up, yawning, and set her fingers to his forehead. “Holy mother. You’re burning up.”

Rising to her feet, she stripped off her T-shirt and soaked it in the thermal pool. She had on a plain black exercise bra—of course. This woman wouldn’t be caught dead in anything lacy.

As she wrung out the T-shirt, he eyed the strong, beautiful muscles in her shoulders and arms. A wry grin tugged on his mouth. He finally had her stripping off her clothes and he was too damn weak to do anything about it.

She returned with the wet T-shirt and set it on his forehead. He closed his eyes as the ache in his head receded.

“Here. Drink something.” She lifted his head—so gently it made his heart clench—and held a cup to his lips. Somehow, he hadn’t thought she had it in her.

Not that he deserved her kindness. Hell, if he was Marjani, he’d bang his head on the cavern floor. Hard.

He sucked the water down. “More, please.”

She nodded and made another trip to the pool—three trips in all before he’d had enough water. By then the T-shirt had warmed from his skin. He turned it over so that the cooler side lay against his forehead.

Marjani took it and wiped his face and neck before rising to wet it again.

He felt under his head. He was laying on soft wool. He turned his head to look at it.

“You…need your sweater.” He tugged at it.

“No worries.” She returned to drape the wet cloth over his forehead again, covering his eyes. “It’s warm in here, and if I get too cold, I can always shift to my cougar.”

He pushed up the T-shirt to look at her. “I…thank you.”

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He pulled the cloth back down and lay there, humiliated.

She touched his wrist. “You’d have done the same for me.”

“If you believe that…” He trailed off.

Because he would’ve.

In fact, he’d thrown away his whole way of life for her. If he was lucky, Sindre would release him from the geas. If not, he was going to spend the next thirty-nine turns of the sun in a private hell of the ice fae king’s making.

Arne was going to be disappointed—he’d stuck his neck out for Fane, arguing that his son deserved a chance even if he was only a quarter fae. And his grandfather Roald would sear him with one of those looks that said, What do you expect from a mixed-blood?

His chest tightened, and what felt like a chunk of basalt lodged in his gut.

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